


From Drake to Duck, the Handing of a Cape and a Hat (and a Helmet!)

by BardicRaven



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon)
Genre: Choices, Choosing the Life of a Hero, Coming of Age, Gen, Knowing what you want to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 21:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9029117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardicRaven/pseuds/BardicRaven
Summary: From the first time Goslyn found herself in the tower, she knew.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DesertScribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertScribe/gifts).



As soon as the lift ‘thunked’ into Darkwing Duck’s secret hideout, she knew.

Goslyn Waddlemeyer wanted to be just like him.

The spirit which had been both her blessing and her bane had found a direction in that moment.

The rest, as they say, were merely details.

Like – could she convince him to be her father? To take her away from her ‘I’m never enough. Always too much.’ life and give her a home?

Pretty big detail there.

So she grieved when she thought Darkwing gone, killed trying to save her. Rejoiced when he came to her in the orphanage, someone wanting her – who knew? And not just someone, but him.

He saw the benefits of her spirit too. He came to rely on her for her brains and her heart, both freely at his service.

Goslyn was never sure whether it was that or the fact that he loved her for herself that made her love him so much.

Decided it didn’t matter. She was his daughter and he was her father and that was more than enough right there.

The cape was a delicious bit of icing.

* * *

That remained true throughout her childhood and as she grew to be a young duck. She helped on missions and was a duckling in-between. Sometimes, it was hard to tell who was the child and who the parent. She nagged at him to wear his helmet and he encouraged her to play.

And always, in the back of her mind, she honored her grandfather, who had taught her to love life and science alike. Who had loved her for her spirit, and whom she still missed fiercely in the dark of the night.

Many things changed as she grew and some did not. In many ways, she was an ordinary duck, so wasn’t hounded by the media as so many other heroes and celebrities were. She had reason to be grateful for that, as she saw how the media pursued her father.

Fortunately, as a child, she was immune. After all, what child ever did anything of that much importance?

Little did they know.

“Sometimes, being a parent makes crime-fighting look easy.” A favorite saying of her father’s, often spoken when she had done something to get on his last nerve. Or when he was trying to get some sleep, in-between bouts of crime-fighting. He’d mean it, in the moment, but always, he’d remind her, later, of how much he loved her.

Her spirit and relentless energy included.

He didn’t allow himself to think about it much, but the way she attracted people, himself included, meant that she would be good at being a crime-fighting duck if she so chose.

Honker, the proverbial boy-next-door, fell in with her various schemes, following her lead at whatever she chose to do.

Launchpad loved her. Stood by her in his own solid, if sometimes weirdly imaginative, way.

Even J. Gander Hoover liked her, tho’ he would never admit it to anyone.

Had his own ideas about grooming her, tho’ he’d never admit it to Darkwing.

So, yes, Goslyn Mallard, nee Waddlemeyer, was quick, charismatic, and clever, three traits practically guaranteed to give her a good career as a crime-fighter.

And she had both the heart and the desire for it. Neither of these dimmed with the passing of years. She choose her school subjects with an eye towards flapping in her father’s footsteps.

Went off to college in her time, majored in criminal justice, to no-one’s particular surprise who knew her, tho' plenty for those who did not. Did well. Returned home. Had the conversation with her father.

The one where she laid out her heart, told him of her dream. How she wanted to carry his mission forward. Continue the good he was doing. Perhaps even expand it.

The one where, after a long silence broken only by muffled cries that he insisted were merely the product of a summer’s ozone-laden pollen, he wiped a tear away (also a product of that pollen!), and agreed.

Agreed that she would make a good crime-fighter. Agreed that he would take her on as an official apprentice. Agreed that if J. Gander Hoover agreed, he would mentor her through her entrance into S.H.U.S.H.

Agreed (to himself) that it was good to know that things would continue. That St Canard would be safe when he was gone.

It wasn’t all a time for tears. The hug she gave him in that moment made it all worth it. All the sleepless nights. All the parental worries. His baby duckling was all grown up, and making her first, and most important, grown-up decision.

They went out and celebrated. Quietly, of course. Or, rather, not quietly, but with the true reason hidden amidst the joy and the celebration.

They celebrated long into the night, taking this one night away, to rejoice, before getting back to work the next night.

After all, crime didn’t take a holiday. So while a night could be excused, it needed to stay a night.

On this, they all agreed.

* * *

After that day, she started giving thought to her own team, her own methods when it was hers to say. Who would be with her? Who could be trusted to stand by her, keep her secrets? Who had the skills, the heart, to be a part of her team? Who had the desire?

She began going out with her father at night. Not just as a kid, sometimes falling into the missions by accident, like how they met so long ago. No, now she was invited, formally, with her own cape and hat (and helmet!). Now, she began to work on her own shtick, her own processes. What worked for her father wouldn't necessarily work for her, and vice-versa.

Far better to learn that now, when she had back-up, rather than later, when she would be on her own.

The night she took her first solo-mission, Launchpad flying beside her, was the proudest moment of her life thus far. Just ahead of when she’d officially become Darkwing’s daughter, but close.

Now, she was a duck in her own right. A crime-fighting duck.

And the world, and the criminals haunting St Canard, had just better look out.

**Author's Note:**

> ##### Saw this wonderful cartoon first-run back in the day. Loved it. So happy to have seen your prompt! This story was a joy to research and to write. Thank you!!
> 
> ##### Hope you enjoy and Happy Hollydays!
> 
> ##### Yule Goat to be Named Later


End file.
